A Rare and Beautiful Thing
by INMH
Summary: Hannibal and Bedelia dining in Savoureax. Warning: Cannibalism, Allusions to Major Character Death/Murder.


A Rare and Beautiful Thing

**Rating:** PG-13/T

**Genre:** Romance/Drama

**Summary:** Hannibal and Bedelia dining in Savoureax. Warning: Cannibalism, Allusions to Major Character Death/Murder.

**Author's Note:** A further attempt at figuring out what in the hell these two have going on between them. Whatever it is… Damn, it's kind of sexy in an Evilest-People-On-the-Face-of-the-Earth kind of way.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hannibal. It belongs to NBC, Thomas Harris, and Bryan Fuller.

[-]

There are very few people that Hannibal has ever bothered with romantically.

He did not, in many cases, see a real point in it. His work- his _other_ work- was much easier when he did not have someone nearby in constant danger of asking questions, taking notice, finding out. What effort it would take to conceal from someone what he does, how he cleanses society of the uselessly and disgustingly rude; and how troublesome it would be if they did discover it, for it would be quite the conundrum to become attached to someone only to have to kill them later on.

He had conceded a very long time ago that finding someone to aid him in his work (or simply to sit back and not interfere) would likely never happen. Most of the population could not stomach it- figuratively or literally. There had been hope with Abigail and Will, but it would seem that Hannibal's meticulous planning is no match for the universe's design.

And then he has dinner with Bedelia.

She intrigues him. She has, as long as he has known her, intrigued him. That careful mask of cool composure is more or less welded onto her face, and he has never once seen it slip and reveal what's beneath. Were he inclined to confrontation at the time, he might have remarked about _her_ "person suit", or her "human veil".

Everything is going fine. Bedelia is in no danger: Aside from sparking his interest, she is one of the few people that has managed to earn his respect. Hannibal sees her intelligence, her sharpness, and her utter sense of calm even when all else it going badly. She says that she sees enough of him to see the truth of him, and it is true that she knows him better than only a small handful of other people, but assumes that she does not know the depths of it.

Until, of course, he becomes certain that she does.

"Controversial dish, veal." The words roll off her tongue easily, and it takes Hannibal a moment to really understand what she's said, and a bit more to process the tone in which she has said it. At first he thinks he must be mistaken and that in a moment she'll recite some offhanded fact about why eating baby lambs is controversial, but she doesn't.

Hannibal looks her in the eye as she takes a bite. She chews slowly, hums a little in satisfaction and then meets his gaze again.

Her smile is small, coy, and in that moment there is no question as to whether or not she knows exactly what she is eating.

This is a new development, and not one that Hannibal was necessarily expecting.

There are lengths that a psychiatrist will go to in order to understand their patient better, even ones that come into conflict with firmly established social taboos. In his experience, however, consuming the flesh of another human being was one of the places where they felt the need to draw the line (obviously, Hannibal himself has no such scruples and has gone above and beyond such lines on multiple occasions).

If Bedelia is the rare person willing to go that far, it is impressive, and only serves to make her more interesting, someone Hannibal would much like to know better. And if it isn't a matter of her trying to understand him, if this is perhaps a signal that she shares certain pastimes with him, then that is something else entirely, and equally fascinating. Does she hide the disgust for those rude and inferior behind a veil of bland congeniality? Does she yearn to see them brought low? Does she see the beauty in death, and appreciate the art of a fine kill, as well as its yield?

Hannibal has seen the look in her eyes before, in his own. The possibility of a kindred spirit, someone on his… Level, so to speak, is almost enough to send a shiver of excitement down his spine.

Almost- he mastered such physical manifestations of emotion a long time ago.

"Those who denounce veal often cite the young age at which the animals are killed, when they are, in fact, older than many pigs going to slaughter." He says, setting down his cutlery and reaching for the glass of wine to his right. He wants to prod just a little further, wants to see her reaction, wants to be absolutely certain of what he is seeing and hearing.

Bedelia locks eyes with him, still chewing, and then looks down at her plate again. Nothing in the motion speaks to him of regret or any other unpleasantness. In fact, she pins another piece of meat with her fork. She does not look at him as she says, "You have to be careful, Hannibal." Only when the sentence is complete do her eyes flip up to meet his again. "They're starting to see your pattern."

This is both pleasing and troubling.

Pleasing, because his suspicions are confirmed: Bedelia does, indeed, _know_. That she continues eating without a care in the world that she is performing cannibalism says that she, at the very least, does not disapprove of him; and that she is warning him clearly indicates that she prefers he not be caught.

Troubling, because Hannibal acknowledges that Bedelia is on his level, and therefore means that he must take her warning with more seriousness than he might take someone else's. He cannot, at this moment, think of any reason she might have for warning him if he were not approaching dangerous territory.

"And what pattern would that be?"

"You develop relationships with patients that are prone to violence." Bedelia says, and each word is measured. Her expression, however, is flat, and there is something vaguely, strangely amusing in realizing that he may be observing a version of what others see when they speak to him. "That pattern."

They lock eyes again, and Bedelia meets him without hesitation. Hannibal recalls Will's words about how eyes were too distracting, providing at once too much and too little information. Bedelia's provide none: They are blank, neither cold nor warm, neither soft nor sharp. That he can't read her is a treat, as most people are obscenely easy to dissect and the eyes are usually where Hannibal starts.

He looks away first and adjusts his napkin where it has slipped on his lap. She takes it as a sign to continue, either because he's given the impression that he isn't heeding her or because she intends to clarify anyway. "Under scrutiny," Bedelia says, "Jack Crawford's beliefs about you might start to unravel." She doesn't continue, merely looks at him and waits for a response.

Curious, curious: Is this why she finally agreed to have dinner with him? So that she might warn him of the danger she's perceived? If so, what precisely does that make Hannibal, in the eyes of Bedelia Du Maurier- an interesting patient, one who should be studied further? A serial killer with a flair for the dramatic, one that puts on a show she enjoys? A colleague with similarly… Unconventional methods, one whom she felt a certain rapport with?

That remains to be seen.

Hannibal sets his silverware down. "Tell me, Dr. Du Maurier," he says lightly, and his otherwise neutral gaze and tone are colored with just a touch of what could be construed as teasing. Or rather, what could pass as teasing from the likes of him. "Have your beliefs about me begun to unravel?"

For a moment, Bedelia is silent and utterly still. At some point she had set down her fork, but so quietly that he had not noticed, and her hands are more likely than not folded on her lap. He could be looking at a photograph, as still as she is. Even her eyes don't move, staying fixed on his as she presumably settles on the words (or careful choice and arrangement of words) she wants to use.

And then Bedelia calmly picks up her fork and stabs lightly another piece of veal. The smile that spreads over her face reaches her eyes, and it is serene and pleasant- enough to remind Hannibal of his own similar smile, which allows him to see the darkness lurking behind it.

"Not at all, Hannibal."

She eats the veal, and the smile never fades.

Hannibal smiles as well, and muses that Bedelia has never looked quite so beautiful as she does at this moment.

He looks forward to getting to know her better.

-End

"Under scrutiny, Jack Crawford's beliefs about you might start to unravel." "Tell me, Dr. Du Maurier," he says, leaning in from the shadows, "have your beliefs about me begun to unravel?"


End file.
